visualise the ending

A/N (3.3.2023): Happy Ninoai Day (in Japan)! 🔰💛💚 This story is tagged as romance, but you can definitely read this as platonic if you want to.

I started shipping Ninoai back in March 2022 (literally like a few days after Ninoai Day haha), and oviparous' works are a large part of why I am still here. This story and its title are entirely inspired by a plot point in the fic 'The non-fiction of you and me' (available on Ao3), which I highly recommend to all Ninoaiers if they haven't read it yet! There are no spoilers for oviparous' fic if you happen to read this first.

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Aiba's feeling green today.

He noticed he gets better results when he wears something other than the standard, penguin-suit, salaryman costume to work, so the professional side of his closet is filled with button ups and ties in bright colours that make him happy to look at; and the morning's beautiful sunshine has him feeling like he should wear green. Once that decision is made, he finishes the rest of his morning routine in record time and heads for the Makuharihongo Station.

As soon as he boards the Sobu Line, he can tell the commute this morning isn't going to be very pleasant. He's lucky that he was able to find a seat, but by the next station there were already enough commuters that people had no choice but to hold onto the ceiling handrail in front of him. In one more stop, they were all packed like sardines.

If not for one flash of pale yellow somewhere between him and the closest exit, the blacks, grays, and whites of suit jackets and collared shirts swarming before him would certainly fit the sardine analogy. He is extra glad for his spring green shirt today.

As the train continues onwards to Mitaka, Aiba indulges in his favourite subway hobby: observing people and guessing their niche personality traits. It's something he's always done; he can't tell if it's a byproduct of his profession, or maybe it's the reason he's so good at his job.

For example, the man crossing into his personal space likely ice skated in middle school, a conclusion entirely drawn from how he is able to maintain his balance in the crooked posture he's in. What appears to be the sole woman in the entire subway car probably is the middle child of a large litter of boys.

The fellow in yellow? Well, it's not a personality trait, but he's definitely about to fall.

Standing where he is and surrounded as he is, he has no good bars or straps within arms reach to moor himself. He's entirely relying on adjusting his balance between his two planted feet and apologising when he overcorrects. All it'll take is one particularly bad jostle, and—there.

In the time it takes him to blink, Aiba's already out of his seat, one hand punched through the wall of bodies to reach where he knows a handrail should be and the other wrapped around the upper chest of the nearly-horizontal man.

Leave it to the Tokyo commuters to only create space just for a man to bruise his dignity.

"Are you okay?" he asks reflexively as he sets the Fellow in Yellow upright. Aiba guides the man's closest hand to follow his arm until it reaches the rail, and they smoothly exchange positions so the other is holding on instead.

"Your seat..." The Fellow's pitying-yet-incredulous voice is clear despite the mask he's wearing.

Aiba doesn't have to turn to know someone else had occupied his vacant spot on the bench, likely as soon as he got up. In fact, it's probably the figure skater. "Don't worry about it. This is my stop!" he lies just as the next station rolls into view.

"Take care today!" Aiba waves cheerily as he gets caught up in the throng of people rushing on and off the train. He waits until the doors close before he looks around the platform to figure out just where he ended up.